Chapter 10 Quin
TEN
Quin
Quin wanted more than anything to take Kit’s bleeding hand in his own. The second the tang of blood had mixed with the salt of the sea air, Quin’s entire being had gone on high alert, like when his beast sensed a predator. Only there was none in the vicinity but Kit himself.
Quin hoped he hadn’t pushed too far. Kit was still skittish.
Quin had to keep reminding himself that Kit wasn’t like a member of his pack.
Kit was not only a solitary vampire, but he’d been alone for a long time, unused to casual—or comforting—touches.
No matter how much Quin ached for it, he had to tamp down his urges.
He wished he understood why Kit hurt himself.
It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. Quin wouldn’t consider himself an observant guy, but he also wasn’t ignorant enough to presume that Kit ever did anything unintended.
No, Kit held himself too carefully for that.
Every muscle in his body was wound as tight as a coiled spring.
Kit would’ve run a mile if Quin had reached out and done what his instincts told him to do. Even with Quin’s strength, there was no way he could catch a running vampire in his human form. Part of Quin, a part driven by his beast, would have relished the chase, regardless.
Kit chucked the last few stones from his pocket into the sea.
They plopped in one by one. Quin picked up a rock the size of a brick and lobbed it into the sea.
Kit laughed, a bright, joyful sound that warmed Quin’s insides.
So, he picked up an even bigger rock and threw that in, too.
He’d never been so grateful for his strength.
Far from that of a vampire’s in his current form, but stronger than a human’s.
The act was primitive—throwing rocks to impress someone—but Quin would admit he was a simple man, with simple pursuits. Besides, Kit appeared to enjoy Quin’s attempts at lobbing bigger and bigger rocks, until he got to one that was more like a small boulder.
“You don’t think you’re going to be able to lift that up?” Kit asked.
“I can think it. It’s just whether my muscles will comply with my brain.”
“Far be it from me to tell you what your muscles can and can’t do.”
Quin pretended to flex. “These babies can rise to the challenge.”
“Don’t do your back in.”
“Out of the two of us, I’m not the old man,” Quin quipped.
“Excuse me?” Kit asked in pure disbelief.
“Oh no, is your hearing going too?”
Kit pressed his lips together. “Your generation has no respect for its elders.”
“Okay, boomer.”
Kit made a noise that was halfway between a squeal and a gasp. “You did not just say that to me.”
“Totally did. Did I get your age right?”
“Absolutely not. Now, go try to pick up that big rock. I want to see you fail.”
“You’ll be disappointed.” Quin braced himself, spreading his legs as he put his arms around the boulder. Lifting it, he found the biggest difficulty in keeping it aloft wasn’t the weight, but the awkward shape. He groaned as he lumbered towards the sea.
Kit hovered close, but Quin couldn’t risk sparing him a glance as he attempted to heft the boulder into the water. It fell straight down into the shallows and missed his toes by a matter of inches.
“Shit, that was stupid,” Quin said.
“Kinda,” Kit agreed.
Quin snorted. “On-brand for me.”
Kit’s brows drew together. “You’re not stupid, Quin.”
Quin gestured down to the small boulder. “My actions prove otherwise.”
“I mean, sure, it was a bit silly,” Kit conceded. “But you’re not stupid.”
“What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done?” Quin asked, rather than consider why Kit’s words affected him so much.
Quin could practically see the cogs turning in Kit’s brain. “It would be the time I had to run away from a rampaging bull.”
“Were you a matador in a previous life?” For all Quin knew, it might have been the case.
“I was an idiot teenager who saw multiple signs saying, ‘Private property: keep out’ and ignored them. In my defence, it was the first time I’d gone to the countryside.”
“So you thought cutting across a field was a good idea?”
“Yep. The bull chased me and my sister right up to the fence. I had to stop to boost her over first—she was even shorter than me—so I made it out with seconds to spare. It caught sight of us from a bloody mile away as well.”
“You have a sister?” Quin asked.
Kit gave him a sharp look. “I did. Back when I was human. I don’t have a family anymore.”
Quin took the chance to ask something that had been on his mind since he’d met Kit. “What about your creator?” He wanted to grasp any crumbs of Kit’s past.
“Dead,” Kit said, short and to the point.
Quin had fucked up again. “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing it was a poor offering of sympathy.
Kit’s gaze flicked to Quin. “Why would you be sorry?”
“Because they were your creator. I thought they tended to be close to those they recreated. Most of the stories I’ve heard about vampires involve, uh, lovers.”
Kit laughed, cold and mirthless. “Lawrence wasn’t capable of love. Not how most people would understand it.”
“But you loved him?” Quin was desperate to understand why Kit reeked of sadness.
“No. I’m capable of as much love as he was.” Kit’s words cut harshly through the air, but they rang false to Quin’s ears.
“I think you have a lot of love, actually,” he said firmly.
Kit’s eyes went flinty. “Oh?”
“You love watching the waves. You love collecting sea glass. And you love giving Mabel treats behind my back when you assume I won’t notice. That’s all love.”
Kit was silent for a long moment, thumb going to his mouth where he chewed on the nail. Quin wanted to stop him from hurting himself, to rip his hand away and hold it tight instead. But Quin could barely shield Kit from the world, let alone from himself.
Noticing Quin watching him, Kit dropped his hand, hiding it conspicuously behind his back. “I suppose you might have some semblance of a point,” he said.
Quin let a satisfied smile spread across his face. “Course I do. Cup of tea at yours next time, then?”
Kit wore a considering expression. “Give me a few nights to prepare.”
“I look forward to it,” Quin said, trying to keep his excitement contained.
Kit was silent for another few moments. “Me too,” he said eventually, gifting Quin with a small smile. It was the sweetest thing Quin had ever been given.
When Quin checked his watch and saw that it had just gone nine in the evening, he knocked on the door to Kit’s flat and waited.
He’d had to do a couple of loops around the area to waste some time, as he’d arrived far too early.
The last few days had crawled by as his anticipation grew over the not-date, which was what Quin had taken to calling his visit to Kit’s.
It would be too presumptuous to use the word date, even if it had some hallmarks of one.
Besides, Quin wanted to do something a bit more special for their real first date.
The curtain at the tiny window next to Kit’s front door twitched. Quin caught the barest hint of a pale face peeking out at him. A second later, the front door opened.
“You’re early,” Kit said. He folded his arms over his chest, looking up at Quin with an annoyed expression marring his cute face.
Quin flashed his watch in Kit’s direction, careful not to drop the little pot he held. “It’s nine. You said to come at nine.”
Kit turned on his heel with an exaggerated sigh. “You know that you’re not actually supposed to turn up when people say to? That’s rude.”
“It would have been ruder to keep you waiting,” Quin reasoned, following Kit in. He hadn’t been told to come in, but he figured Kit wouldn’t have opened the door at all if he didn’t want to have him there. Of the two of them, Quin wasn’t the one who required a spoken invitation.
“Everyone knows you give the host extra time to prepare,” Kit said as he strode through the hallway.
Quin closed the front door. For someone complaining about social niceties, Kit sure wasn’t playing the role of a model host, but Quin found he didn’t mind.
It was like how you were treated when you were so familiar with a place that you were no longer a guest.
“Well, I apologise for being on time, then.”
Kit turned and raised a haughty eyebrow. “Early.”
“Sure,” Quin agreed.
Kit disappeared into a doorway, Quin slipping in after him.
The open-plan kitchen and living room were decorated identically to every other holiday rental along the coast; with a kitschy nautical theme dominated by whites, reds and blues.
Ubiquitous sailboat and seaside paintings dotted the walls, and a little wooden seagull figurine sat next to a matching lighthouse on an end table.
“This is nice,” Quin said.
Kit gave him a droll look. “Don’t lie to me. It’s awful and cliché, but this is how it came.”
“You’re renting, right?” Quin asked, seating himself on the sofa. Kit was wearing a track between the TV and the kitchen sink, so he figured he’d just sit down and let Kit do what he wanted.
“Mm-hmm.” Kit was still moving.
“Are you planning to buy at any point?” Quin wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to talk about the property market, but most people seemed to enjoy the opportunity to complain about it if given the chance, so he decided it was a safe topic for conversation.
Kit stopped pacing and looked at Quin properly for the first time that night, homing in on what he held in his hand. “Why are you carrying a cactus?”
Quin smiled. “It’s for you.”
Kit eyed the tiny cactus in its equally tiny grey pot as if it might jump at him. “Why?”
Quin held it towards Kit. “It’s customary to provide a gift when you’re invited into someone’s home. It’s not like I can bring you a bottle of wine.”
“But why a cactus?” Kit still hadn’t made a move to take the pot, but Quin kept holding it out in hope.
“I didn’t think flowers were your thing, given your reaction to that bunch I got you before. But a cactus is hardy and doesn’t require too much water.”